


Rock Bottom

by Otoshigo



Series: MLB - Oneshots [19]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Drama, F/M, Post-Papillon, Romance, Second-Hand Embarrassment, fluuuuuuuff, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otoshigo/pseuds/Otoshigo
Summary: In the aftermath of Papillon’s defeat, Adrien is not having a good time of things. Turned to rather desperate means, he never expected to run into the one lady he had thought he’d never see again. [Post-reveal/Papillon]





	Rock Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> This is strangely my Thanksgiving fic. Because the French obviously don’t celebrate American Thanksgiving. But this is just about thankfulness nonetheless.

 

Adrien had officially hit rock bottom.

It didn’t help that his association with Papillon came to light. Unfair or not, he was painted as the son of a supervillain. Then he had his home and fortune taken away, all to pay for reparations to those who were ill affected Papillon’s numerous attacks. Which was basically all of Paris, over and over again. It also didn’t help that his father also made sure that he was unemployable as a model in the fashion industry, just to be extra spiteful for his son’s part in taking him down.

He was essentially screwed twice over. He tried to not let it get to him. He never wanted a career as a model anyway. But the bills kept piling up, he had to pay for school so that he could actually do what he _wanted_ to do, and on top of that he had to learn how to do things like cook and do _laundry._ Ugh. (No, he wasn’t a snob, shut up.)

All in all, he was not having a good time.

So he took a job that he wasn’t exactly... proud of.

He became a stripper. _To be fair,_ it wasn’t on a regular basis. He had other jobs, but when he was really hard up on cash, then a party here or there helped to supplement his income. The quote-unquote ‘escort’ service was always happy to have him come on. He was rather good at it. Not that he wanted to be, he just was. Even better, no one ever recognized him. (Although no one really looked at his face.)

This evening, he was facing down an eviction notice (rent due tomorrow or else), he hadn’t eaten anything but ramen and eggs for a week, he had a paper due after five days of putting it off, and he had to wear the extra chafey cop-uniform that he hated.

That wasn’t rock bottom though.

This was.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng stared at her visitor from the door to her flat, jaw dropped to the floor. The sights and sounds of a party boomed behind her, filled with friends new and old. Birthday party. Hers it looked like.

Adrien stared back, just about swallowing his tongue.

Then suddenly, what was unmistakably Alya swung into the picture. She looked just a little bit to drink, face rosy as she said, “Hey~ Is our special guest here ye-” She froze. “Oh. Adrien! Hi!”

“...Hi,” Adrien replied back awkwardly. He didn’t have to guess who ordered the stripper. All his attention was on Marinette, however, who still hadn’t picked up her jaw from the floor. “It’s... it’s nice to see you again... milady,” he said with a small tip of his cap.

Could the earth just swallow him up now? He wanted to crawl into the deepest, darkest hole that he could possibly find and just stay there for eternity. He never, _ever_ wanted for Marinette to see him sunk so low.

However, his Lady’s face didn’t contort with disgust or disappointment. As one might expect if their old paramour showed up in this particular profession. Instead, Marinette’s face split into a wide smile. Her arms threw themselves around Adrien’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug. “Adrien, you’re _here!”_ she cried, her voice thick with emotion as she clutched him close. Despite himself, Adrien felt his heart hammering double-time and he hugged tightly back. He missed this. Oh, how he missed this. Then again, it was his fault he was deprived of it in the first place.

Marinette hopped back onto her heels, her gorgeous bluebell eyes moist as she looked him over. “Let me look at you. You’re too skinny! Oh, how did I lose track of you?”

“I wasn’t really ready to be found,” Adrien smiled, warmth spreading all throughout him. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to make up for all the lost time. To hold her close and revel in her presence. To cup her face and kiss her over and over again.

The designer grinned, running her hands over his shoulders to hook around the back of his neck. Even after all this time, the touching was easy between them, as if they’d never been separated. “Well, you look like you’re doing alright. So, you’re a police officer now? How am I not surprised?”

Adrien froze. He looked up to Alya, whose hand was over her mouth as she looked on the whole scene. Apparently, she hadn’t enlightened her best friend on the nature of their special guest. Hell, she probably had absolutely no idea that it would be _him_ that would show up. However, instead of outing him, she shoved her face into a glass of champagne and spun around on her heel, heading straight for the dessert table.

Leaving him to flounder. “N-no!” he said, waving his hands in denial, “I, um, I thought it was a costume party?” A lame excuse, but better than the alternative. “B-but I can see it’s not, so I should probably head home to change-”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Marinette said, her hold only tightening around his neck. As if sensing that he was about to run for the hills. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Besides, I think you look kind of dashing in uniform,” she added with a sly look, tracing a finger over his collar.

Adrien went scarlet. Oh but how she managed to make him feel like an awkward schoolboy all over again. Not giving him any room to argue, Marinette tugged him into the flat. “Let me introduce you around,” she said, keeping her arm wrapped around his. As promised, she brought him around to meet all her friends. Some familiar remnants from their school class, but mostly new from university and her job in one of Paris’ biggest fashion houses. Thankfully, it was dark in the room, so no one noticed that his uniform was a little easier to take off that it ought to be. It was also kind of hair-raising to see familiar contacts from his old life in the industry.

Mostly though, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Marinette. She’d only grown more beautiful as the years passed. More confident, more poised. More _everything._ He felt so deficient in comparison. But then she’d look up at him with that adoring look in her eyes, stealing his breath away and making him feel like the luckiest man in the whole world. It was like a dream. One he never wanted to wake up from.

Before Adrien realized it, it was well past midnight. He was curled up on the couch next to Marinette after the other had stuffed him with as much food as she possibly could. He was warm, happy, and just a little tipsy. Marinette a little more so, her cheeks rosy from all the toasts made in her honor. Most of the guests had gone, save for a few stragglers who were chatting and sobering up in some dark corner of the room. Leaving the pair to themselves.

“Hey, kitty?” Marinette hummed, looking up at him as her head rested on his shoulder.

“M’yeah?”

“You’re not...” she worried her lower lip, “...you’re not _with_ anyone, are you?”

Adrien smiled. As if he could ever replace the love of his life. “Do you really need to ask?” he replied, fingers brushing through her hair.

Her lips quirked into a small grin. “Good,” she said, as she nuzzled closer into him. They passed the time in tired, but companionable silence, waving off some friends as they finally headed home. Including Alya, who was far less awkward than she had been when he first arrived. She gave them a cheery wave as she headed out, seemingly having forgotten all about _why_ Adrien had unexpectedly shown up. Just as well. He would have been mortified if she offered him money.

Then, so very suddenly, they were alone.

Once he realized it, Adrien’s pulse began to quicken. Suddenly, he was very awake, every nerve like a live wire, all centering on the warm body pressed up against his side. She shifted against him and his breath caught as she looked up at him again with those peerless blue eyes underneath her dark lashes. “Adrien,” she murmured softly, “take me to bed?”

His throat tightened, heart thundering against his chest. How could he possibly say no? In answer, he leaned in, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her into a sharp kiss. She riveted, making a soft gasp in relief, as if she had a taste of water for the first time in years. His other arm slipped under her knees and she let out a small squeal as he easily lifted her up into the air bridal style.

Marinette lost none of her flexibility as she turned and wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms clasping his shoulders as she kissed him desperately. He had no idea where he was going, so she steered him in the right direction. They awkwardly slammed into her bedroom and he deposited her with a small toss onto the bed. She let out a shrill giggle, bouncing up to tug on his buttons.

Which is when he suddenly remembered what he was wearing. “Whoa, wait, wait!” he cried, pulling back. That was when his infamous bad luck reared its ugly head again. Even years after retiring Chat Noir.

Something, a clasp on a dress, snagged onto a belt loop. As he pulled back, his pants ripped off as well, with the same fluid ease that they would have done in his dance. Worse, he was wearing his black briefs with a police badge printed over his junk. Once he felt the brisk chill over his legs, his entire body turned into ice. Marinette stared back at him, wide-eyed, his pants still attached to the front of her dress.

A solid minute passed in complete silence.

 _Oh God. Oh my God, oh God,_ Adrien thought, once his brain reactivated again. Only to fall into a spiraling pit of soul-breaking humiliation. His mouth fell open, but nothing came out. No explanation, no witty comeback. Nothing to abate his absolute fall from grace. He couldn’t even look at her, terrified to see her face twisted in disgust, or worse, pity.

“Adrien,” Marinette spoke up, her voice soft. “I’m so sorry.”

The former model winced, the words like a javelin thrusting into his heart. But she wasn’t finished.

“Gah, I’m still such a clutz!” she cried, her own cheeks glowing bright red as she pulled the pants off of her, tossing them carelessly to the side. “One would think I’d grow out of it, but I think my clumsiness is going to follow me around for the rest of my life.” Then with a smile, she held out her hands. “So you going to continue?”

Adrien’s head snapped up, finally meeting her eyes. She still smiled, her eyes warm with adoration. His tongue began to work again, albeit slowly. “You- you’re not- but I’m...” he said, making vague gestures with his hand toward himself.

Marinette gave him a sheepish grin. “Well, to be honest? I kind of knew what you were here for when you showed up. I saw Alya’s note to call the escort agency. I’m very good at deducing surprise parties, as you well know,” she said, not a little smug. “I just... didn’t want you to feel awkward, that’s all.” More shyly, she took his hands, tugging him over towards her. “Seeing you again... it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in years.”

Looking into her eyes, he could tell that she was devastatingly sincere. With a smile that was nothing but sweet and adoring. “You don’t care?” he asked softly.

“I care... and I don’t,” Marinette replied with a half-shrug. “The most important thing is that I want you to be happy and healthy. Although~” she paused as she smiled broader, “right now, I want very much for you to kiss me again.”

Adrien looked over her for a long moment, simply taking her in. This wonderful, beautiful person, who - for whatever reason - was still in love with him. He lifted a hand to her face, gently stroking his knuckles along her jaw, just to make sure that she was real. She responded by turning her nose into his palm, pressing a chaste kiss against his wrist, sending a flutter of warmth through his blood. Holding his breath, he leaned into her again, catching her lips into a kiss. His knee went to the mattress, leaning over her as he pressed her into the bed.

“I love you,” he breathed, as he pressed kiss upon kiss against her face and neck.

“I love you, too,” Marinette replied, her face aglow with warmth and happiness. Not to be outdone, Adrien stole her breath away, just to prove how much he loved her back.

The next morning, Adrien was officially homeless.

Not that he really cared that much. Warm and content, nothing could bother him as he sleepily awoke to the sight and sound and _feel_ of his one true love curled against him. He blinked blearily into the morning light, smiling as he found a naked shoulder in his field of vision. Smiling, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the crook of her neck, making her squirm into his touch. Awakening slowly, she turned her bleary eyes towards him, along with a tired smile. “Hi,” she spoke softly, brushing her fingers into his hair.

“Hi,” he answered back, pressing a kiss against the bridge of her nose.

Letting out a content hum, she turned over and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Move in with me,” she said, nuzzling kisses against his collarbone. She couldn’t possibly know about his dire situation. This was just need and want. And love.

He didn’t hesitate. His smile broadened. “As you wish, milady.”


End file.
